Entanglement
by hpfreak1213
Summary: Sometimes, love can trap you in, or set you free.
1. Almost

Draco's wand shook in his cold, clammy hand, and the mark on his forearm surged with power. He felt nothing, he saw nothing, he knew nothing, but what was happening at that exact moment. He studied the girl in front of him, her blond ringlets cascading down her waist, her cloudy blue eyes filled with question, and wonder, her pale, porcelain like face, and her cheeks pinched a rosy pink from the eerie, dark chill. Her pink dress hugged her body tightly, tracing each curve, and the hem blew and willowed with the breeze. She cocked her head to the side, and without hesitation or doubt, she exclaimed,

"Just do it then," Her expression held no fear, or regret for what she had spoken. "I can tell you're probably going to. You wand is pointed right at me, and I can see the image of it growing deeper and deeper in your eyes."

His breathes became hot in his nostrils. Two words. Just two words could end this, the light leaving her glistening orbs, to never hear another story of wackspurts, or nargles, or plimpies. To have her light, sing-song voice morphed into an ear-splitting scream. To have her washed away like a pile of dust in the drifting wind.

His knuckles were white, gripping his wand so tightly he was afraid it would snap under the pressure. He just couldn't do it. Orders or no orders. Draco's eyes drifted to a long, blissful close. Only for a brief second, and his wand fell from his fingers, the small clanking echoing, diffusing in the silence.  
>Luna slipped closer, and snatched it up it up from the snow sheeted ground. She began to back away, but he laid a hash grip on her wrist.<p>

Luna's breath caught in her throat, and she stared down at his hand, which was holding her so aggressively there was no point in trying to escape. Her attention trailed up his wrist to his forearm, where the grotesque tattoo was branded onto his body, slithering and flicking on his skin. She brought her glare back to his face, meeting his. He reached his hand up, and without their gazes breaking from each other, he unclasped her bottle cap necklace, from her graceful neck, freeing it in his hand. The stood still there for a while, a few inches from each other, the fog emerging from their mouths blending in one thick cloud.

"Run," Draco uttered, his silvery strands falling in his ashen gray eyes. "I want you to run, and don't ever come near here again, and lay low. You understand?" She nodded, tears beginning to blur her eyes. "Now run, run!" he shooed her away, and she ran into the mist, and was followed by a loud crack, and Luna Lovegood was gone.

"Has the girl been disposed of, Draco?" The Dark Lord said in his chilling, cold whisper. Draco looked up, trying not to look into those cruel, pitiless red eyes.

"Yes, master," he swallowed. "She is dead" His throat felt dry and sharp, preventing him from swallowing. _I am lying to The Dark Lord, he may well kill me for this._ He took a deep breath, only to inhale the deep, rotting scent of blood the room had acquired.

"Whatever is the matter Draco, is something bothering you?' Voldemort's words were kind, but they were said in a taunting hiss, swirling around him. Draco looked to the tiled floor, and noticed the long, fat, vicious snake scrutinizing in him fiercely, then flicking it's tongue swiftly, giving him a glimpse of its crimson stained fangs.

He took a small gasp. "Nothing, master, nothing," He swerved on his heel, and began to exit the silver doors, his breathing calming, and his heart felt as if it were finally beginning to beat again. He ignored the scrutiny of the other followers as he stalked throught the corridors. _She will be safe. They will not found out. She will be safe. _He thought, as if repeating it over in his mind would make it true.

Draco reached into his thick winter cloak, and his fingers wound around a cool, metallic shape. He closed his grip around it, stroking the base of the caps with his thumb. _She will be safe. I promise._


	2. Chapter 2

Luna collapsed on the fluffy, soft snow where she's landed. Her lungs felt as if they were about to burst, though she hadn't run an inch. _He saved me._ She thought. _I literally asked him to do it, and he saved me. _Her mind was still begging to process it all. She laid there in the shivering cold, letting her body become numb and heavy. One, lone tear trailed its way down her burning cheeks. She forced herself to her bare feet, ignoring the raw pain of her bones seeming to grind against one another, and took a glimpse at where she was.

The house stood like a rook on a huge chessboard, standing in the midst of a dangerous game. A tiny smile urged to form, but she knew that soon, she would probably never see it again. Luna's frail, tiny hand pushed gently on the door, and it slid open. Her father, Xenophilius, was frantically stroking his silvery hair, and was bounding around the house, picking things up, and gazing under them, as if his precious daughter was hiding beneath. The tall, zany looking man, paced back and forth, a whimpering noise escaping from his chapped lips. He ran upstairs, in the direction of her abandoned bedroom, and an anxious slam of a door followed on his trial.

She stepped one delicate foot in, and held her breath, finally noticing the despondent wreck at which the house was in. Luna let her hand pass over the small table next to her, and felt her cheeks grow hot, as she slowly lifted it, and noticed the lines of cracking glass, morphing her mother's beautiful face. She set it down, and continued throughout the room. Her letter she received for Hogwarts earlier in the year still laid undisturbed and motionless on the lumpy couch. She traced her fingertip over the luminescent wax seal, and scanned over the words splattered onto the parchment, "Must submit blood status to the Ministry….Anyone found associating with Harry Potter shall be punished severely….There will be additional schooling in the Dark Arts….All wizarding children of suitable blood status MUST attend…." Luna felt a shiver go down her spine as she imagined Hogwarts, flooded with Death Eaters, and all of the muggleborn children who may never again get to see the once gorgeous, majestic place.

Luna heard the disturbance of the rickety steps in front of her. She jerked her head up, and her father stood there, just staring at her. He ran forward, and grabbed her into a tight embrace. She slowly brought her arms around him also, and let herself cry into his chest, her tears soaking into the fibers of his cloak. She cried for her family, she cried for Hogwarts, she cried for herself. And she cried for the boy with the ashen eyes. Xenophilius stroked her hair dizzily, and pulled her back, just gazing at her, like he was trying to make sure the girl was still there, and he was not pretending. He came to a sickened realization as he got a better look at her. Her dress was soaked straight through, and she was so ghastly pale she was almost blue. Her reached for her hand, which felt like ice.

The man dug in his picket for his wand, and pointed it at the fireplace, "Incendio," A twitching fire burst to life in the hearth. He guided the freezing young woman to a seat, and brought her a pile of blankets. "Damn wackspurts, clouding my head again," He muttered to himself as he tripped and stumbled his way about.

He looked down at the shivering, broken being in front of him, and pursed him lips. _I know what I must do now. I must._ He grabbed a quill, and furiously scribbled he nib against the wrinkled roll of paper, ashamed of every word appearing on the page.

Draco squirmed in his seat at the Manor, unable to control the disgusted feeling in his stomach, of all the savage people surrounding him. The Man with the red, ferocious eyes ordered Pettigrew to go grab one of the prisoners. _Prisoners,_ he cringed the word in his mind, _My house is caging human being like they are animals._ The rat-like man returned with an elderly, sliver of a man, and shoved him forward to the crowd of ferocious onlookers. The man looked shattered, in every meaning of the word, and as those pale, filmy eyes met his own, Draco felt himself go back to that very first day he entered Ollivander's. The way the hawthorne wand fit perfectly in his hand, the second he held it. The tip seemed to glow, but no like a 'lumos' charm, but true, shimmering glow. "That's got a core of unicorn hair you know," Ollivander mused. "Unicorns are truly magical creatures,"

His subconscious clicked back to reality, and he bit the inside of his cheek, as the frail little senior was shoved into the room. The Dark Lord spat questions at the poor figure, as if he were a child who had done something naughty.

Ollivander pleaded that he knew nothing, that "Magic works in mysterious ways," . The Dark Lord cackled at the man's words as if he was just told a horrible joke, but laughed to cover up his annoyance. His raised his wand up toward the sniffling old man, and whispered in a cold, ruthless voice,

"Crucio," Draco held his breath as the gentle, kind man twitched and screamed on the linoleum. He begged and shrieked, and an uproar of hideous laughter imploded within the group. His felt a sudden urge to break the curse, but he thought,_ I'm not that daft, _The screaming stopped, leaving the hopeless body lying there. Pettigrew dragged him to his feet, and yanked him back to the dungeons.

No one seemed disturbed in the slightest by the scene, and all of the snickers dissolved as their master so much as parted his lips to speak. "Harry Potter is coming. I can feel it." His words swirled throughout the eardrums of his listeners. "We must find anyone useful to the location of Potter. I want tracers on everyone who has ever even shown signs of contacting him. Draco, has already disposed of the Lovegood filth, shame, had not all the trash gone to her head, she may have been useful." Draco gripped the edge of the table, restricting himself from lashing out at the serpent like 'person', and ignoring the admiring look from his parents, who nodded at him.

"A taboo had been placed on my name, to help for the search, apprising of anyone who dares disrespect me or my power. We are close to ridding ourselves of the Order of the Phoenix, but we deal with them later. I have finally ridded Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of any bats undeserving of the education of magic. Soon, I will remove all houses, and have only the noble house of my ancestors. The golden time is upon us," The long tables of people let out a dignified clap, and he noticed his aunt Bellatrix staring at her master with such lust he could have easily believed he was her lover.

Draco bowed his head and stared into his lap, and the tables began to empty, Death Eaters vanishing through the Floo. Voldemort simply vanished his a foggy flash, leaving a drooping, thick feeling in the air.

Even with the Dark Lord at a decent perimeter away from him, he felt cold, like a stone being dragged in a velvet bag. Definite and regal on the exterior, but horribly cold and unfeeling on the inside. He dragged him outside of the room, creeping his way up to his quarters, the silver and green tapestries covering the walls spiraling around the staircase. He creaked open the door, and stared around. The bedroom, like the entire home, was decorated in honor of the 'superior Hogwarts house'. The emerald color once just felt right, like it was always meant to be, but now, it felt wrong. He felt like he was hiding from something. His parents? The Dark Lord? Himself? It was, like as he realized, his life. A question left completely unanswered.

As he slumped by window, the outside seemed the only part of his life that was real. The snow began to fall again, the little flakes of perfection doing its best to create beauty in a world full or horror and sorrow.

She awoke slowly, her eyes fluttering open like the wings of a tiny bird. A fire still crackled in the hearth, and Luna watched as the remaining weak flames attempted to coordinate in a clumsy, flitting dance. She smiled softly at it, the way the few remainders seemed to keep fighting, although they were clearly losing.

Luna peeled herself from the thick quilts she had been smothered in, the scent of cinnamon and dirigible plums from it still wafting in her nostrils. She stalked up towards her bedroom, only to be surprised. The entire house was an absolute disgrace, but her room was completely untouched. Everything was exactly the way she left it, nothing out of place, it seemed a bit odd. The only item missing was oddly, her comb. "Nargles again,' she grumbled, and searched the bedroom for it.

It seemed silly, to search for something so average, but it was something Luna could never live without. It was on top of her wardrobe, and she awed at its beauty. The dark, shiny teeth were sleek and sharp, and the top was a glistening silver, adorned with tiny jewels, and intricate swirls and details. She clutched it in her hand, and slipped it into her pocket. That was the only thing she took. Luna exited her bedroom, for what she knew could be the last time.

Luna attempted to extend her time at the house by wandering, but it was no use, she couldn't stay. She made her way to the rickety door, and did her best not to look back. Suddenly, the creaking of floorboards came from behind her. Her father was standing there, a goofy smile plastered on his face, as if nothing had ever happened. "Where are you going Luna?" He crinkled his brow like a confused child.

"Nowhere Daddy, just…. Grabbing some freshwater plimpies for supper." She felt guilty, lying like that, but there was nothing else left. He nodded wildly, and his cheery eyes turned to those of a sick puppy as she drifted from her home.

Rodolphus Lestrange waltzed over to the Dark Lord, his sheet of proudness, translucent , revealing fear. He whispered something softly into his ear, the words so strong he could have screamed it. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," Voldemort shook his head. "Thank you Rodolphus, you have proven yourself useful." Rodolphus left briskly, a triumphant smile on his face.

Lord Voldemort snapped his fingers, and within a fraction of a second, Scabior and Greyback were standing in front of him. "We seem to have a problem with dishonesty among my followers. Seems as though you two need to pay a little visit to Luna Lovegood." The barbaric men nodded and smirked, displaying rotting teeth. The Dark Lord continued, "I want her dead or alive by the end of the week." They nodded, and their boots clacked against the floor as they lurked, ready for the spread of new blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenrir and Scabior were never necessarily the wisest, but were some of the most cunning and deadly. They fought until one side was dead, the others, or their own, and the lives of any and all whom had attempted to stop them were taken.

Violence and pain were their favorite aspect of life, the smell of blood enticing. They decided Luna was going to be a special job, Potter taught her to duel, and the more feisty, the more fun to slay.

Greyback tensed his claw like hands in the cold breeze. He could feel the scent pulling him, gnawing at his bones. He trudged through the ankle deep whiteness, and could feel himself growing near.

Finally he stopped at a patch in the snow, and could already feel the girl's flesh between his cannibalistic teeth. The snow was stained with the smell, he recognized it as the same smell emanating from Draco after he 'killed' the little blood traitor.

Scabior caught on quickly, inspecting it closely. His eyes fixed onto something so light, it was almost invisible. His grimy fingers gingerly swiped up the long, thin blond hair. "Oi, well look at this," he snickered deviously, "The thrill of the catch ain't nearly as good as the thrill of the chase." He handed Greyback the strand, who took a whiff, and smiled like that of a serial killer.

Scabior felt incredibly satisfied with his finding. Unlike his partner, he found the chase somewhat more entertaining than the kill. He may not have been a werewolf, like Greyback, but he had the instincts and carnal influences that caused him to resemble one. What Fenrir lost in smarts and conniving, Scabior made up for in strong strategic wit.

The pair reached their destination. The girl's aroma seeped from every sleet covered brick and frozen blade of grass. They felt themselves being pulled to the spot, the words of their master flooding through their minds. Scabior yanked his wand from his musty trench coat, and Greyback bared his glinting teeth.

They circled the Lovegood estate, hoping to find an even stronger hook. Although her scent was strong here, it was only remnants, not truly her in the present. They would not fail this mission. Luna Lovegood was going to be found.

Luna had no choices. Weasley's? Too expected. The Leaky Cauldron? Much too public. 12 Grimmauld Place? Doubtful. Hogwarts? She wasn't that loony. She already knew that somehow, they would come to realize that she was alive, and they would find her. The fact of capture was almost inescapable. She simply hoped for the love of Merlin that it wouldn't be soon.

She stumbled across a muggle camp site, quiet, yet public enough so that even though they could spot her simply, she could notice them just as easily. Luna strode to the camp ground, and gripped her wand, which she had hidden in her overcoat. She reached a small clearing in the back of the grounds, and whispered softly. "Accio tent," A small tent whipped in front of her. A cramped, muggle tent that was wet with morning dew. It was not the best, but comfort was not a concern. Staying alive was.


End file.
